


Don't Say Sorry

by poesflygirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Tragedy, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt Vision (Marvel), Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poesflygirl/pseuds/poesflygirl
Summary: After the Civil War, you, Steve, Natasha, & Sam are on the run. All hell breaks loose when aliens attack Earth and HYDRA figured out where you four are hiding. At the same time, Steve reveals the truth about the murder of your parents. What some now call the “Infinity War” then commences. Who will make it? Who won’t?





	1. Trust Nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of death, fighting (not physically, but yelling and being upset), nightmares, panic attack-ish, spoilers for cw and iw

_“You tore them apart. They’re stronger together than alone, and now they don’t have that advantage. They’re dead now, because of you.” _You immediately know that you’re thinking about what happened in Germany.

“No,” you tell yourself, confused at what your mind was implying. “I didn’t tear them apart. It was the Accords. I didn’t do anything! They’re not dead!” You turn around, and your heart stops.

_No. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t._

You saw everybody lying in front of you, dead. Tony. Steve. Nat. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Wanda. Vis. Rhodey.

_They were dead, and it was all your fault. You tore them apart, you betrayed them, you let them do this to themselves and you even contributed._

You clap your hands over your mouth in an attempt not to scream, but tears start streaming down your face as you fall to your knees, looking at what you had done.

You jolt up in a cold sweat, realizing what just happened.

Nightmares like these had taunted you for ages, ever since Mom and Howard had died. But they had been different back then. Now it was this. Once you had a nightmare, you could never sleep. Why the hell not get some fresh air? You slowly get out of your and Nat’s shared bed as you try not to step on Steve.

The motel room was small, with just one bed, a couch, a bathroom, and a mini-kitchen. Steve insisted that you and Nat sleep on the bed while Sam slept on the couch and he slept on the floor. Usually, you guys would stay in the Quinjet, but you were getting sick and bored of the same setting, and the others felt the same way. It was decided that you all would stay in a little-known motel in the suburbs of Northern Italy so you guys wouldn’t draw any attention to yourselves. Plus, the remains of HYDRA were after you too, and that didn’t make matters any better.

As you stare at the sky, leaning on the motel railing, you think about anything and everything that was bothering you. Mom and Howard’s death, Germany, if Rhodey was doing okay, about Thor and Loki in Asgard, about Clint, about Wanda, about Sam. The thing that bothered you the most was Tony. Was he doing all right? Was he coping okay? Could he bear it? You couldn’t believe how you had just left him alone like that. Even though you were the younger one, you always had to act like the older. You had left him for a few years, just to follow some leads on your parents’ deaths, and when you had come back, he was a complete mess. Pepper was the only thing keeping him near sane. But you had come back with nothing. All the leads had went cold months in. You had failed them. Tony, Mom, and Howard. You knew it was somebody that had murdered you parents, you don’t have bruises on your neck like Howard did if you died in a car crash, you had those if you were choked. But your_ Mo-_

Your thoughts are interrupted by light footsteps coming towards you, like the kind that don’t want to be heard. You tense up, heart rate elevating, and clench your fists in order to take down the presumable HYDRA Agent. _Goddamn, you should’ve grabbed your gun._ You can hear the agent coming closer, and you finally take your chance. Spinning around and swinging your fist at—_Steve?_ Luckily, he ducks down before he can intercept a blow. You put a hand over your mouth and gasp lightly in surprise.

“Jumpy much?” he asks. You can see his eyebrows raised and a smile tugging on his lips in the faint light of the outdoor lamp. You shake your head.

“Sorry,” you mutter, helping him up. You turn back around and lean on the railing to once again gaze at the stars. After a moment, he walks over and stands next to you, looking at the sky as well.

“Can’t sleep?” He questions, breaking the silence.

You shake your head. “Nightmares are the worst,” you tell him, turning to face him. He looks at you, concern visible on his face.

“What did you see?”

You open your mouth then close it again, feeling conflicted. “It was Germany,” you blurt out, looking away. “But it was worse.”

“Worse how?” He asks gently, wanting to know what was bothering you, wanting to help you.

You think about how to word it, and almost let out an unbelieving laugh; this had been taunting you for ages and you always thought it was true. “All of you were dead. Everybody. Nobody was spared. It was my fault. After Germany—” he cuts you off.

“None of us are dead, it’s not your fault, and Germany’s over. Why are you still worrying?” He asks you. Another moment of silence passes as you try to find words.

“I left Tony. Just like that. I always have act like the older one, and I abandoned him, basically. He’ll go back to drinking, he won’t maintain a substantial life, and— and— I don’t know what to do!” You pull your hair in frustration. “He could barely cope with Mom and Howard’s deaths, I’m the only family he has left, it’s the same the other way around, now he doesn’t know if I’m alive or dead, and vice versa!” You bang the railing with the palm of your hand, and it retorts with a low metallic ring. “So yeah, that’s it.” He looks at you incredulously.

“You don’t need to keep that all bottled up, you know,” he states cautiously, presumably not wanting another blow up. You sigh.

“It’s a habit.” Both of you stand in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind softly ripple the grass.

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you.” You hum in response, and he takes in a deep breath.

“I know who killed Maria and Howard.” You don’t believe what you hear.

“What?” You mutter, shaking your head, trying to clear it, hoping that what he said wasn’t true, or that you had heard him wrong.

“I know… I know who killed them,” he repeats, an unreadable emotion crossing his face. Fear? Pain? Pity? Anguish?

“Who was it, Steve? Tell me who,” you plead, wanting to know your parents’ murderer, wanting to make them pay for what they did, wanting to get revenge. It feels as though a thousand years pass.

_“It was Bucky.”_

Time stops. You suddenly feel light-headed and grab the railing to steady yourself. Steve moves forward to grab you, but you wave his hands away, focusing on keeping the panic attack at bay. Waves of realization crash upon you, suffocating you, _drowning you._

“Tell me you’re lying. Steve, please tell me you’re lying.” You take a step back with your hand out, silently begging him not to come closer until he had explained himself. He doesn’t respond, and you let out a hysterical chuckle. “Why? Why, Steve? Why did you do this? _How _could you do this?” You ask with a tone of betrayal in your voice. He just looks at you sadly.

“I— I had to protect you. I didn’t—” you stop him before you hear any more lies.

“No. You didn’t want to protect me. You just wanted to protect yourself and Bucky. That’s all.” He starts up again, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I trusted you, Steve. I trusted you with my life, I trusted you with my heart, I trusted you with my deepest, darkest secrets that I never ever told anyone. Not even _Tony_. How could you do this? I protected _Bucky_ with my life. I knew he was innocent because the footage on the cameras was too obvious. I betrayed Tony, I betrayed Rhodey, I betrayed Vis, and I nearly betrayed Nat! How could you let me do that? How could you just throw everything away?” You whisper, tears threatening to spill. 

The world spins as your panic attack takes over. You can barely get back to your room, pushing Steve out of the way. You slam the door open as Sam lets out a surprised yelp, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. Head in your hands, you try to control the panic attack. You hadn’t had one for months, and none of them had been thisbad. Your ears were ringing like there was no tomorrow, head throbbing. Your breathing is barely existent. You try to control the sobs that are threatening to leave your body as Steve opens the door and closes it behind him, turning

“Steve, what did you do?” Natasha asks cautiously, and you feel her hand on your shoulder. You violently pull away, and the tears start coming. “Rogers, I’m asking what you did to her!”

You never cried in front of anyone.

_Ever._

You pretended like you were happy all the time, even when you felt like breaking down and crying until an eternity passed. Even Nat hadn’t seen you cry. Tony had, once, when your parents had died. The stupid emotion had been pushed into oblivion after your parents’ deaths, but all of this had brought it back. You had learned the hard way that sentiment only made you weak. You can imagine Steve’s shocked and scared face, looking at what he had done to you, but you don’t feel a twinge of remorse. Hearing the couch springs relax, you know that Sam has gotten up.

“Come on Cap, let’s leave them alone.” You can tell that Steve doesn’t want to leave you like this, but he leaves with Sam anyway, knowing it’s best. Once Nat hears the door close, she crawls over the bed and sits down next to you, rubbing circles into your back. Your breathing, beating head, and ringing ears slowly stabilize.

“Hey.” She says gently, but you don’t respond. “What happened?” You wipe your tears and look up at her. She really was extremely confused, you could see it evidently on her face. “Did he say something?” You look at her disbelievingly.

“Seriously Nat? You think I’m _that_ weak?” you ask her, trying to regain your posture. She lets out a soft laugh but doesn’t seem content with your answer. If that even qualified as one.

“So, what happened?” You wait for a while, trying to decide whether or not you should tell her. She was a sister to you, but even some things needed to be kept private. You decided that this was something you would tell her.

“It was Bucky, Nat. Bucky killed my parents. Steve knew it all along. And to think I betrayed my friends to keep him safe, to think I betrayed Tony to keep him safe…” your voice chokes.

“You didn’t betray them. You’re allowed to have an opinion of your own—”

“But the question is, am I allowed to fight for it? Am I allowed to fight my friends for it? Am I allowed to fight my family for it? _Am I?_” This silences her for a moment.

“Yes. You are.”


	2. Unexpected Battles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Fighting (physically this time), bombs/grenades, bullet wounds, mentions of death, blood (loss), passing out, language

You look outside the window, holding a glass of water in your still-shaking hands. You had silently cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how much Steve had betrayed you, how much he had betrayed Tony, how much _you _had betrayed Tony. _Tony had known, but why didn’t he tell—_ your thoughts are interrupted by the ringer on your SAT phone, signaling that you had gotten a text. _Really, Steve? I’m not letting you talk to me, so now you’re texting me?_

You had called upon your friend Daisy for a favor: four SAT phones. SAT phones were untraceable by the government or anyone else you hadn’t given access to your SAT phone. The only contacts were Daisy, Nat, Steve, and Sam. You had given Tony access too, just to see if he would try to find you, but nobody knew.

But instead of Steve’s name…

It was Tony’s.

_Was he going to turn you guys in? _Guilt falls upon you as you worry about him betraying you although you had been doing that very same thing for the past two years. You open up the text and it reads:

_Tony_

_8:24 AM_

_Hey sis, how are you doing? Don’t worry, I didn’t tap the text. SAT phones, huh? Someone’s high-tech. How’s Nat doing? Sam? Hope you guys are okay, living on the run can be hard._

“Stark? What is it?” Nat asks mildly.

Your voice catches in your throat. “I— Um.. nothing. It’s nothing. Listen, I’m going outside for a couple minutes, I’ll be right back,” you announce absentmindedly, not even looking up from your phone. The morning humidity is noticeable, the sunlight casting a golden blanket across the landscape. You look back down at your phone, reading the whole message.

_Tony_

_8:24 AM_

_Hey sis, how are you doing? Don’t worry, I didn’t tap the text. How’s Nat doing? Sam? SAT phones, huh? Someone’s high-tech. Hope you guys are okay, living on the run can be hard. Want to make sure my little sis can cope. Anyway, I was digging through some files and think I struck gold. I’ve attached it below. Tell me what you think. Stay safe,_

_Tony._

You swallow the lump in your throat as you open up the file; immediately, you feel as though all the wind has been knocked out of you. It’s an old photo of you, Tony, Mom, and Howard. But this one isn’t like the others, the ones where everyone is managing a fake smile and looking directly into the camera, one where the world would assume that you’re a happy family. Definitely not. You recognize a 3-year-old Tony and a 1-year-old you, grinning a toothy smile as Tony playfully stuck his tongue out at you. Mom was holding Tony in her arms, laughing at Tony’s silliness. But what hits you the most is Howard.

He has a genuine smile on his face, looking down at you in his lap. The same Howard that sent Tony off to boarding school when he was seven, leaving you alone for another two years until he did the same with you. 

The same Howard that had never told you that he had loved you, not even that he liked you. 

The same Howard that had always told you were a disappointment, nothing more than a waste of space and money. Whichever night that followed resulted in you getting zero sleep, tinkering away in your room for at least next twenty-four hours as though it would get rid of all your problems; although it wouldn’t. Mom stayed at your door for a couple hours, begging you to come out. Tony stayed outside your door the whole time. 

Another wave of guilt hits you as a tear slides down your cheek, which you quickly wipe away. Honestly, how many tears could someone cry?

“Listen, I’m sorry—” Steve’s voice rings through your ears as sadness is replaced with anger.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you scowl as you push him to the side of the doorway, quickly walking towards the kitchen table and slumping down in a chair next to Sam. You look at the photo, trying to memorize every little pixel.

Looking over at you, Sam asks, “Who are they?”

You smile in nostalgia and sadness, wishing you could go back to those days. “That’s Tony, Mom, Howard, and I. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” You abruptly stand up, startling Sam and walk over to your nightstand, putting your phone as to not be tempted to look a the picture again. “So, where are we going next?” You ask, subtly changing the subject as Steve finally moves from the doorway to the kitchen, whispering something to Nat. She shakes him off.

“I was thinking that we could go to Brazil, I’ve heard—” and out of nowhere, you’re on the ground, ears ringing, vision blurred, and a throbbing pain in your head. Rubble is scattered everywhere, and if you had hit your head just a bit harder, you would’ve mistaken the specks of white drywall for snow.

_What the hell? What’s going on? _You try to get up and comprehend what happened as your head pounds, your hand instinctively going for the gun in your holster.

“Engage fire!” You hear as you put your back up against the bed, breathing heavily as your mind tried to gather itself and not slip into shock. You hear gunshots and turn the safety off on your gun, firing a couple shots blindly behind you. You peek over the mattress and catch a glimpse of a silver, snake-like badge. _HYDRA. _

Looking over at Steve, Nat, and Sam, you see that Sam and Nat are using the table as a shield, Steve army-crawling over to them while Nat temporarily holds her fire to help him behind the table. _That table won’t hold. _You frantically look for a way out, worrying that you all were outnumbered. You see a window open just to their left which the HYDRA agents couldn’t see due to a wall; Nat had opened it this morning to let some fresh air in. They have a chance to escape, and you needed to let them take it. _Even if that means you won’t make it out._

“It’s HYDRA! There’s a window behind you guys! Plan two on me, go!” You yell at them, getting your gun ready to fire once again. Plan one was attack, two was a diversion, and three was to make a run for it. You four had made them in case of an emergency, but none of them had been used until now. 

You put your left hand on the top of the bed and start firing as you rummage around with your other in Nat’s duffel for an automatic, a taser, a knife,_ anything._ As you look back, you see Steve still using the table as his shield, with Nat and Sam out of sight. _He probably let them land first so that they can start up the Quinjet_. A few shots barely miss your head and you duck down behind the bed, letting out a string of very colorful words.

“Are you hurt?” Steve yells over the gunshots, and you shake your head _no_.

“I’m fine, but you need to get out!” You scream back, shooting blindly once more with no success.

“I’m not leaving you here!” Your heart pangs.

“Get to the Quinjet, and take off if I don’t come back in three minutes!” You reply, knowing you wouldn’t. The soldiers were advancing, most probably because they had noticed that there was no more firing coming from Steve’s side. You weren’t sure about the exact number, but there were either a hell of a lot or they had automatics.

“I’m not leaving y— grenade!” He yells at the top of his lungs, and your eyes fall to where his are. _Damnit_. Your eyes widen and without a second thought, you grab the grenade, and chuck it over the bed, ducking for cover, but not fast enough. A bullet hits you in the shoulder and you let out a cry of pain, dropping to the floor just as the grenade explodes. You hold your breath to see if your aim was on point, and sure enough, there aren’t any more gunshots. You sigh in relief and stand up, Steve running over to you.

“You’re hurt,” he points out the obvious, gently reaching out to grab your arm, but you pull away.

“I’m fine,” you lie straight through your teeth. Judging from the amount of blood having had soaked your tank top, you were far from fine, but the team didn’t need another thing to worry about right now. You look over at the agents, seeing that there were just four with six automatics. No backup.

“Fucking idiots,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. “Shit, we’re gonna be on the news.”

“That’s the least of our worries right now,” he points out, eyeing your bullet wound. “I don’t know if Tasha can stitch that up.”

“She can, and she will. We need to get out of here. Shit.” You sway from side to side, falling onto the bed.

“Oh my God.” Steve pulls you up, putting your good arm on his shoulder. Your vision flashes white before darkening, and you groan. “Hey, you have to stay with me, you hear that? You can’t black out now.”

“I’m not planning on that,” you moan, another wave of pain rolling over you.

Someone runs through the door and you immediately draw your gun, pulling both yourself and Steve to the ground as you fire over the top of the bed, ignoring the searing pain in your arm.

“Guys, it’s me, Natasha!” You peek over the bed to see that it indeed, is her. Sighing in relief, you and Steve both get up. You put a hand down on the bed to steady yourself, Steve immediately grasping your shoulders to stabilize you. “Holy shit.” And you know Nat’s seen your arm. Running over to you, she grabs your arm and you wince, hearing a muttered apology as she inspects the bullet wound carefully. “How the hell did this happen?” You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off. “Never mind, we’ll talk about it later.” You battle the urge to go to sleep, eyes fluttering.

“She’s losing blood fast. We need to get her to the jet. Can you walk?” Your brain barely registers what she asked.

“What? Oh— I, Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I can’t…” Your knees give way and Steve catches you, hoisting you up, bridal style.

“That ripped straight through the third part of her Axillary artery. If it was lodged, I wouldn’t be as concerned, but right now, her arm is going to bleed out if we don’t do something about it.”

“I’m still conscious, Nat,” you groan, burying your head in Steve’s chest.

“Can you fix it?” Steve asks nervously, biting his lip.

“I don’t know. Right now, we need to get her to the jet. We’ll have four minutes after she passes out to stop the bleeding, or else she’s gone.”

“Yeah, those four minutes are gonna start right about now.” You could feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness.

“Just try to stay awake for as long as you can.” You can feel Nat stroke your hair. “Let’s get to the Quinjet. The sooner we do, the better.”

“It’s okay, we got you. You’ll be fine.” Steve’s soothing voice is the last thing you hear before the darkness takes over.


	3. Quite A Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nightmares(ish), LaNGuAgE, mentions of blood, mentions of blood loss, stab wounds, mentions of blades/knives, mentions of needles (for medical purposes)

Flashes.  
Tony’s hardened face.  
Natasha confused.  
Steve in dismay.  
Rhodey’s closed eyes.  
Wanda’s scared expression.

Voices.  
“I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart!”  
“Bucky?”  
“You locked me in my room.”  
“I’m going to regret this. Go.”  
“Yeah, those four minutes are gonna start right about now…”

Darkness.  
•  
•  
•  
“No... Stop... No!” you scream, shooting up. You immediately regret it, head spinning, vision blurring, and ears ringing. Your shoulder screams in pain, and you nearly pass out again, holding back a cry of pain. Once your body stabilizes, you gather the energy to get off the makeshift bed, your legs barely keeping steady. You open your eyes once the pain has dulled enough.

Two IV’s are injected into your Radial Artery on your right hand, one with blood and the other Morphine. Your left arm is in a sling, and you suddenly remember why, wincing at the memory. You reach over for the knob on the Morphine and turn it down so it’s practically nothing. You didn’t need to be high on drugs right now. Your eyes travel around the Quinjet, immediately alarming you.

Outside the window, you didn’t see clouds; instead, you see stars. The sky was blanketed pitch black instead of its usual light blue. Either you had been out for quite a while or you’d flown opposite the daylight cycle. Your eyes land on the gate and you panic. Why the hell did they leave it open? You drag yourself to the gate and hold down the “close” button. The mechanical whirring commences and you turn around, walking across the jet to the cockpit. You lay your right hand down on the scanner, the faint blue light scanning it up down.

“Welcome. Voice activation required.”

“[Y/N].” A beep follows.

“Access denied.” Oh god, how could you have forgotten?

“[Y/N/N].” You hold back the nostalgia.

“Welcome, Inferior Stark.” As if your grin finds its way onto your face, remembering how insufferable your brother was.

“Current location.” You bite your lip, something you always subconsciously did when you were extremely stressed.

“You are currently located in Scotland.” Scotland? What the hell? That’s where Wanda and Vis were residing. Had Steve, Nat, and Sam gone to check on them? You try to make sense of what was happening and where Nat, Steve, and Sam were, but you don’t come up with anything probable. What the actual fuck was going on? As if on queue to your silent question, you hear a knocking on the gate. Your heart rate accelerates greatly, but you don’t make a sound.

“Open the rearview camera,” you whisper, and a hologram of Sam, Nat, Steve, Wanda, and Vision pops up. Holy—  
Vision had a stab wound, and Wanda looked hurt too. “Open the gate!” You yell, practically running to the gate, your IV Drip rolling behind you. You don’t even notice the stinging pain in your wrist of the needles shifting; you’re too preoccupied with the thought of what shit had gone down. Once the gate is fully down, they step on the jet. “What happened?” You ask nobody in particular.

“You’re up,” Nat says with amusement, walking past you. You roll your eyes, not to be messed with right now.

“Yes I am, Sherlock. Now will someone tell me what happened?”

“Aliens,” Wanda states, helping Vision onto the jet.

“What?” You ask disbelievingly, and scoff. “Great. Again. As if New York wasn’t enough.”

“What happened to you?” She questions, concern evident in her voice.

“Just a scratch,” you reply, too preoccupied with Vision’s stab wound to give an adequate answer. You notice a series of large cuts on the side of Wanda’s forehead. Her powers were too powerful for any alien, forget person, to even touch her. And Vision? Oh god, this couldn’t be good. “And these aliens were a match for you and Vision?” She nods solemnly, laying Vision down. He groans, closing his eyes. Wanda summons her powers, the red mist magically, well, not-so-scientifically, sewing up his wound.

“It stopped him from phasing. The blade he was impaled with.” Your eyes widen.

“What? Is that even possible?” Your head races.

“It is now.” Vision winces, putting a hand over where his laceration is. Well, was.

“How badly does it hurt now?”

“The pain never dulled.” Your brows furrow.

“This makes no sense. None at all. The only thing that can even rival the power of an Infinity Stone and powers given by an Infinity Stone,” you gesture to Vis and Wanda, “is—” Oh shit.

Another Infinity Stone.

“What?” Wanda’s voice snaps you out of your momentary panic.

“N—nothing. We need to get back to base. Is there any way we can contact Thor?” You didn’t want to alarm anyone, but you couldn’t just sit there and do nothing with this info.

“Why? What's wrong?” Nat’s voice immediately grows concerned. You ignore Nat’s question and instead, shift your attention to the cuts on top of Wanda’s head.

“You need to be patched up. St—Sam, bring me some alcohol wipes, gauze, medical tape.” Damn. You had to slip up there, right? You ignore the silence and feign inspecting Wanda’s cuts for the third time.

“[Y/N], there’s something you’re not telling us—“ You whip around to face Steve, seeing red.

“Look who’s talking; Mr. Righteousness himself.” You glare at him, eyes narrowed. He opens his mouth to say something, but seems to decide its for the better not to and closes it.  
Sam clears his throat amongst the thick air, tapping your good shoulder with the supplies. “Here.” You mutter a quick “thanks” to Sam & take it. She cocks her eyebrow but you just shake your head. You hear Nat start talking to Sam and sigh in relief, the attention finally being taken off of you.

“Should I?” She questions, and you know she’s talking about reading your mind. You don’t respond, rather violently ripping open the packaging of the wipe. She puts her hand up to the side of your head and you sigh, waiting for her to figure it all out. Red invades your vision and you close your eyes, focusing on the soft “sparkling”, as you called it, of her powers.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious.”

“Are my memories lying?” You question, cocking an eyebrow and pressing the wipe to her head. She winces at the stinging pain.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m so sorry, [Y/N]. If I had known before—”

“It’s fine. None of us knew,” you answer, taping the gauze to her forehead. “There.”

“How have you been dealing with that? I wanted my revenge for years. The part of me that doesn’t know better still does.” You smile sadly.

“Not very well, if I’m honest. I’ve tried to let it go; I’ve tried to look at the future.” You turn around to look at Steve and sigh.

“But it’s my future that took away my past.”  
•  
•  
•


End file.
